My Psychic
by Pushy-Wife-Of-The-Other-Son
Summary: SHAWN/OC. I never really believed in psychics, so I was skeptical when I entered the Psych office. But I can say now that I'm so happy I did. (I suck at descriptions. R&R?)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! I am Yogurt, and I am a huge fan of Psych. So I wrote this. Don't get me wrong, I ship Shules like no tomorrow, but I made up PJ (which is the only thing I own in this fic) and I could only see her with Shawn. So I did this. Lassie's partner wasn't moved. Set in season one, in my mind, right now. R&R, please? Maybe? If you don't mind? Kaykewlbai. (Wow. I apparently say 'kaykewlbai' a lot, because my computer didn't red squiggly it.)**

* * *

I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared at the office. _Psych. _I had read about the detectives in the papers over the last couple of months, and I was very impressed. I really didn't believe in psychics, but this character really made me curious. I needed help, and the detective I spoke to at the police department impolitely told me to "cut the hanky-panky" and "come back when there was actually a problem."

The only thing was, I knew there was a problem. I couldn't exactly prove it, but I knew there was something wrong with the Addams Towers. Nothing had been stolen or destroyed. No vandalism or break ins. But I swear it, something was off with that gallery, and it certainly wasn't the art.

"Oh, whatever," I said, grabbing the handle of the door and swinging it open. I entered the office and stepped through a doorway, calling, "Hello?" A man with brown hair and slight stubble on his face appeared in the doorway ahead of me.

"Hi!" he greeted back.

"Are you the psychic detective?" I asked hopefully, stepping towards him.

"I am," he said, stepping back to let me into the other section of the office. An African American man looked up from his laptop as I entered and his eyebrows went up. "I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Rich Poor IV."

"Gus," said Rich Poor IV, standing. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, miss."

"You too," I said, smiling and shaking his hand. "Okay, you guys take private cases, right?"

"Right-a-mundo," said Shawn, gesturing to one of the chairs by the window. I sat. "What's your story?"

"Well," I began, "I was born in 1984 to Patty and Perry Fri in a little hospital in Maine-"

Shawn was smiling, but Gus said, "Uh, I think he means why you came to see us?"

"Oh," I said, "right. My bad." I shared a grin with Shawn before saying, "My name is PJ Fri. A week or two ago, a new art gallery opened across town, called Addams Towers. I got a job there, but...I dunno, something really isn't right about it..."

"Is it...creepy and kooky?" Shawn asked. Gus gave him a look, but I said, "More mysterious and spooky."

"I can only investigate it if it's altogether ooky," he went on.

"Shawn," said Gus, giving him a sideways glance before looking back at me. "Do you have anything specific that's wrong with it?"

"The owners of it are just...off," I said. "I work only as an attendant, giving the occasional tour, cleaning up, getting coffee, stuff like that. The other day I was going to go down into the basement to get a mop, and the owner yelled at me and told me not to go down there. Or else."

"Or else?" Gus repeated, frowning. "Did you go to the cops?"

"Yeah. They said I didn't have any proof that anything bad was going on. I was told to cut the hanky-panky."

"Uh-huh," Shawn said. "The man you spoke to...his name was Carlton Lassiter, am I right?"

"Yeah," I said, a bit taken aback. "How did you-"

"The window does not lie," he said, pointing at the words 'Psychic Detective' behind me. "I will help you, PJ, on one condition."

"Name it," I said.

"I think I'll name the condition Malcolm."

"I was thinking Reginald," I said, "but Malcolm works."

"No, you're right, Reginald is much better. Reginald is this: I will investigate for you if you allow me to take you out for dinner tonight."

"Shawn!" Gus said, but Shawn held up his hand in Gus' direction. "Say, seven, maybe?"

"I will have to take you up on that," I said, smiling. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Depends on what you're in the mood for later," he said. "Meet me in the square?"

"Will do," I promised.

"Then we'll talk more about the creepy-kooky occurrences at your work."

"Sounds good." I smiled at him. He smiled back. "See you at seven?"

"Seven," he agreed, waving as I left. I stepped out in the sunshine, smiling to myself. I was happy I went to see him. I checked my watch. Eleven-eighteen. I had to do my shift, then I'd get ready for my date.

* * *

I bite the inside of my cheek, glancing down at my watch. It was seven-oh-three. I knew how awful it was for me to be thinking about Shawn being late for two reasons. One, it was three minutes late, and two, I arrived fifteen minutes early. Which I realized was stupid six minutes later.

"Hey."

I jerked a little in surprise before I turned around and saw Shawn. I smiled. "Hey."

"You look great," he said, looking at my blue dress.

"Thanks," I said. "I'd do the whole 'I just threw something on' bit, but I'm always honest. I tried on about five or six different outfits before deciding I liked this one best."

"Always honest?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Always," I repeated, nodding.

"Sounds boring," he said. I laughed.

"It can be. So, where to for dinner?"

"I suggest somewhere in walking distance," he said, "because I have a motorcycle and riding that with your dress would be a bit odd. So, we have..." He looked around us. "We have a Chick-fil-A, a small diner, a Hooters, and a Pizza Hut. What say you, PJ?"

"Small diner sounds nice," I said. "I try to make it a thing to go to a new restaurant every Saturday."

"Small diner it is." We started walking. "So, what's PJ short for?"

"Ptolemy Joyce," I replied.

"But Ptolemy starts with a T, so shouldn't you be TJ?"

"There's a silent P," I explained. "Like in pterodactyl."

"I never got stuff like that," said Shawn. "Why have letters there if they're not going to be used? I'm going to start spelling my name with a silent K at the beginning."

I grinned. "K-S-H-A-W-N?" I asked.

"Yep."

"But it's just pronounced _Shawn_?"

"Yep," he said again. I laughed.

"I'm glad your name is spelled with _a-w_," I commented.

"Why is that?"

"Because the other ways to spell the name _Shawn _make no sense. S-E-A-N, S-H-A-U-N...I even saw S-I-A-N once."

"I'm glad the spelling of my name makes sense to you," said Shawn.

"Yep. Nothing weird about it. Just K-S-H-A-W-N."

* * *

"I had a good time," I commented. We had finished dinner and were walking slowly back to the square, hand-in-hand.

"Just good?" he asked. "I'll have to try harder to blow your mind next time."

"You think there will be a next time?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I _know_ there will be a next time," he said. "I'm a psychic."

"Mmhmm. Well, psychic, what am I about to do?"

"You are about to wrap your arms around my neck while I kiss you vigorously, and then we will leave in your car to your apartment and see what happens from there."

"Is that so?" I mused, smirking.

"Yes, it is. But before that, I'm going to circle my arms around your waist and pull you close to me while flirting sensually with my eyes," he said, doing the actions as he said them.

"How clear are you on all this?" I asked as he leaned down closer to me.

"A hundred and eight percent."

"Well, I can't argue with that." I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down the rest of the way as his lips touched mine. Something in my stomach jumped and my eyes shut softly, one of my hands twisting into his surprisingly soft hair. He kissed me 'vigorously,' to use his choice of words, for a while before pulling away, breathless. I could feel his warm breath on my lips as he whispered, "Car?"

"Car," I whispered back.

* * *

I woke up with a pair of slender arms wrapped around me and a chin leaned on the top of my head. I smiled at the warmth and rolled over, pulling the blanket that covered us higher up. Shawn was still asleep, the tip of his nose now leaned against the top of my head.

I glanced over my shoulder at the clock on my bedside table. It said it was nine-thirty-six. I had to be in to work at ten. Crap.

"Shawn," I said, throwing the covers off of us and getting out of bed. The air was cold on my naked body, but I didn't care. Shawn jolted awake.

"Wha-" He rubbed his eyes as I pulled on underwear. "Oh, hey, PJ. What time is it?"

"About nine-forty," I replied as I hastily pulled on pants. "I'm gonna be late for work."

"Oh," he said simply. He laid there still for a moment before standing up and getting dressed.

"I'll drop you off at the square so you can get your motorcycle," I said, fastening my bra and pulling on a shirt.

"Or I could go with you and call Gus to meet us there so we could investigate?" he offered.

"That sounds better." I looked in the mirror over my dresser at my hair. It was awful. I grabbed a scrunchie and pulled it up quickly before saying, "Let's go." As we left the apartment, he took my hands and pulled me towards him, placing a soft kiss on my lips before we left. I smiled. I really liked psychic detective Shawn Spencer.

* * *

**WOW. OKAY. WELP. CHAPTER ONE. Review, please? Maybe? I'll have the next one out ASAP (Act Swiftly Awesome Pacaderm!). So yep. Good day. I said good day, sir! Signed, Shown Spencer. **

**-Yogurt  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**EEP. I GOT A REVIEW. AND FOLLOWS. JUST. WHAT. YAY. **

* * *

"So I noticed something last night," Shawn said from the shotgun seat. I glanced over at him.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning my gaze back to the road.

"You, PJ, have a tattoo."

"Yes, Shawn, I do," I agreed. "I got it about five years ago, I think. My best friend, Damien, called me Pineapple because I _love_ pineapples, so he dared me to get a tattoo of one on my b-"

"Whoa, wait." He looked over at me. "It was a tattoo of a pineapple?"

"Yeah," I replied. "What did you think it was?"

"I didn't get a good look at it," he said back. "If we were doing anything else, I would have been staring at your butt, but given the situation, I had other things to occupy myself with." He paused. "Really, it's a pineapple?"

"Are pineapples no-no's?" I asked. I _really _liked Shawn, but if he was going to rag on pineapples, we were going to have a problem.

"No," he replied. "Not at all. In fact, that's probably the sexiest thing I've ever heard." I grinned.

"I'm glad you approve."

* * *

Gus beat us to Addams Towers just by just a little bit. I couldn't help but grin when I saw his car.

"Sweet ride," I commented playfully.

"This," said Shawn, "is the Psych-Mobile. We've caught many-a criminal with these wheels. In a high-speed chase, this baby can go up to...what is it, Gus, sixty? Sixty-five?"

"Shawn," Gus said, giving his best friend a look. "Let's just go inside and investigate." We started to walk towards the building.

"Hey, PJ, remember last night when you told me you were always honest?" asked Shawn.

"Yeah, why?" I replied as we approached the doors.

"If you're going to be working with us," he said, "you're going to have to drop that policy."

"When we introduce ourselves as psychic detectives, people don't take too kindly to it," Gus added. I nodded and pulled the door open for the three of us.

"Okay, then, follow my lead," I instructed as one of my higher-ups neared us. "Morning, Mr. Davenport!" I said happily.

"Miss Fri," he replied. "And who are these gentlemen?"

"Exterminators," I answered. "I found a big family of rats yesterday getting a broom, so I called them. This is Shawn Spencer and...Burt Gustavo." I recalled the previous day, when Shawn introduced him as "Rich Poor IV." I figured it was a regular thing.

"I don't remember Wally saying anything about any exterminators." Mr. Davenport frowned.

"Oh, no, since the budget's strained with putting in hardwood floors and repainting the top floor and buying that Manet, I called them in myself. Shawn's a great friend of mine and he promised to do it _pro bono._"

"I owe her a favor," he said from slightly behind me. "A few months ago I broke both my arms and one leg. She scratched the itches I just couldn't reach." Mr. Davenport looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"They're close," Gus supplied.

"Oh, come on, Gus, we're close too. You did your fair share of helping with that job, too."

"No, I didn't," Gus said.

"Don't be embarrassed," Shawn said, "that's what lovers in the night do."

"Shawn."

"We best be off," I said, trying not to laugh. "I'll see you around, okay, Jim?"

"Okay. Bye." He waved as we rounded the nearest corner.

"Nice!" Shawn complimented.

"'The itches you just couldn't reach'?" I repeated, glancing over at him.

"You get used to it," Gus assured me. I shook my head, grinning.

"Right. Okay, Shawn...where do you need to be in order to get your...psychic...stuff?"

"Well," he said, "I think I'll need to meet your boss. You say he's the fishy one, correct?"

"Quite," I agreed. "A tad bit dolphin-y at times, too."

"Then I'll need to meet him," he said firmly. "See what he's about. How often do you see him?"

"He usually comes along on one or two of the tours to talk to the people," I said. "Usually before lunch." I looked at my watch. "His lunch is in about an hour, I think, so my second tour."

* * *

Shawn and Gus decided to tag along for my first tour rather than waiting or snooping around. They were good for that tour, but then Mr. Addams came to follow along with the next one and they got a bit more...difficult.

"Question!" Shawn called from the back of the group.

"Yes, sir?" I said.

"I've been wondering this for a while now and just decided to speak up, but..." He looked hard at me. "Really? That top and those shoes?"

"Sir, I was afraid of being late this morning," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Why?" he said. "What were you doing?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, sir," I said, "that is none of your business. And I guess you're _nosy_ in two senses, hm?" Shawn touched his hand lightly to his nose as some people in the crowd giggled. He gave me a look that clearly said 'Well played.'

"Anyway," I said, continuing with the tour. Every now and then, from the corner of my eye, I could see Shawn and Gus talking to Mr. Addams. He had a fairly exhausted expression on his face. I couldn't help but smile a bit in amusement.

"And this brings an end to our tour," I announced to the crowd. "The gift shop is to your left if you would like any souvenirs. Please have a nice day. I do hope to see you here again." The crowd dispersed, and Mr. Addams walked away swiftly. Shawn stepped towards me.

"Yeah, he's up to something," he said definitely. "We just have to find out what. You said someone snapped at you for trying to go down into the basement?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have keys for down there?"

"Yeah." I fished my set of keys from my purse and handed them to him. "Be careful down there, okay?"

"We will. Don't worry. If we get caught, we'll just say you gave us the keys and it'll all be okay for us." I lightly whacked his arm and he kissed me quickly. "We'll meet back here a 0700." He and Gus started walking off.

"0700 means seven in the morning," I called after them.

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn said back.

* * *

About half an hour later, the guys found me again while I was giving a tour.

"Drugs," Shawn mumbled under his breath to me.

"What?" I asked.

"Drugs. They've got drugs in the basement," Gus clarified.

"No way!" I said, surprised. I looked at the people in front of me. "And this brings an end to our tour."

"It was only ten minutes!" a boy cried.

"Great job timing it. The gift shop's over there." I stepped away, closer to Shawn and Gus. "Really?" I asked. "Drugs?"

"Yeah," Gus said. "Lots of them!"

"Did you call the police?" I asked.

"No, that's not really...how we do it," Shawn said.

"Then how do you do it?" I asked.

* * *

_"I am sensing something!" _Shawn cried, his fingers touching his eyebrow and he shut his eyes.

"Mr. Spencer," the Chief said, looking at me from where I stood against the wall, "guests aren't allowed in here."

"Oh, she isn't a guest," Shawn said. "No, she's our most recent client. She came to us for- _oh, there it is again!_" He shut his eyes once more. "I-it's...it's...it's creepy and...and kooky...a bit...a bit mysterious and spooky...a-altogether...crazy? No! No, it's altogether _ooky..._the...the..."

"Addams Family?" Lassiter's partner, Detective Berry, guessed.

"_Dun-da-da-dun!" _Shawn finished, snapping his fingers twice. His eyes popped open. "The Addams Towers!"

"The art gallery downtown?" Lassiter asked, frowning.

"Yes!" Shawn said. "That must be it! There's something very creepy and kooky going on down there, I'm sure of it!" As Shawn began speaking to the spirits, I couldn't help but think, _That isn't very psychic of him._

* * *

**_BUM. BUM. BUM. _Rightsohey. This was chapter two. I'd appreciate all who read to review as well. That'd be kewl. I would like opinions on PJ and whether or not she will learn he is not psychic in order to work for Psych. Opinions, reviews, follows, and favorites are splendid. Thank you!  
**

**-Yogurt  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hai! Okay, so, since not much has really changed in this story from the real show, I'm going to make them have a lot of the same cases. Like this one! I recently went to a Sci-Fi Convention, so I decided this one would be the best one to use. I hope you like it!**

* * *

Shawn was right. Of course. Mr. Addams was selling drugs, as were most of the higher-ups. They got arrested and the Towers got shut down. Good for me, huh? Out of a job, just two weeks after I got it. But Shawn and Gus hired me as their secretary.

Shawn and I were doing _really_ well. I didn't know if we would exactly classify ourselves as boyfriend/girlfriend yet, but we were getting there. In a week, we spent five nights together. During one of those nights, Shawn attempted to count every freckle on my torso. (He got sleepy at one thousand fifty eight.) He made me so happy.

Two weeks after I met the guys, we were sitting in the Psych office. I was looking over at Shawn, thinking.

"What?" he asked, noticing my look.

"I was just thinking about that funny face you make when you notice something," I said. I mimicked him, squinting my eyes slightly and turning my head to the left. Gus laughed.

"You do do that," he agreed, imitating it as well. We both laughed and made the face at each other.

"Hey!" Shawn said defensively. "You two aren't any better! How about Gus when we see a dead body?" He widened his eyes and leaned his head back slightly, gulping and whimpering. I laughed.

"Yeah, he does do that, doesn't he?" I did the same thing, both Shawn and I laughing.

"What about what PJ does when she smells something?" Gus wrinkled his nose up in an exaggerated manner and pulled the corners of his mouth down into a wide, slightly open-lipped grimace. Shawn laughed.

"That looks _exactly_ like you, Peej," he said, grinning. I squinted my eyes and cocked my head at him, and when Gus laughed, Shawn imitated Gus' 'dead body' expression. That's when the phone rang.

"Psych," I answered after grabbing the phone on Shawn's desk.

"This is Junior Detective Regan Rosheen," said a strong female voice from the other end of the phone. "Is this where Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster work?"

"Yes, it is," I replied.

"Are they busy?"

"I can check." I held the phone to my chest. "Yo, y'all busy?"

Shawn and Gus looked at me. They had been playing Rock-Paper-Scissors in mid-air and still held their positions on their hands.

"No," I said onto the phone without waiting for an answer, "they are not busy in the least."

* * *

"Who offers pancakes when strangers enter their house?" I asked, frowning.

"This woman did!" Shawn said over the phone.

"And you didn't call me right away?" I asked, feigning upset. "Shawn I am hurt."

"I'm deeply sorry," he said. "How about I buy you dinner tonight? To make up for it."

"I suppose I can live with that idea," I said, smiling.

"Great. I'll pick you up at the Psych office at six-thirty. You can ride my motorcycle again."

"Awesome!" I grinned. "Bye-bye!"

"Bye."

* * *

I rested with my head on Shawn's chest, my hand laying beside my face. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, his lips leaned against the top of my head. I was warm and comfortable with him, and as I lazily shut my eyes to fall asleep, I thought that we could talk and cuddle in the morning.

But nope.

"I'm sorry, Peej," Shawn said, slipping out of my bed, "but I can't stay tonight." I frowned and propped myself up on one shoulder.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I have to wake up early tomorrow morning," he explained. "On this case, Gus is convinced the missing kid is at Comic-Con so I have to g-"

"At the what," I demanded, my expression hard.

"I know," Shawn sighed, "it's dumb, but it's a good lead an-"

"You mean to say," I began, "that you planned on going to Comic-Con _without me?_" He blinked.

"You...do you _like_ that stuff?" he asked slowly.

"Are you _kidding_?" I asked. "I grew up with seven siblings, four of which are older brothers. It was impossible for me _not_ to get into that stuff!"

"Would you...like to come?" he asked in the same slow tone.

"_Yes!_" I exclaimed excitedly. "Oh my goodness, that'll be amazing!" I sat up, holding the blanket to my chest. "I can bring some of my comic books to get them signed! Oh, what will I _wear?!_ I could go Star Trek, Marvel, DC, Star Wars..." I rattled on still for a few more moments before looking at Shawn. His expression was a mix between surprised an confused. "Oh, won't this be so much fun, Shawn?!"

"Sure?" he replied, phrasing the statement more like a question.

"I know!" I squeaked, my grin stretching across my face.

"Well," he said, "I guess I'll just stay here then so we can go together..."

"Okay!"

He laid back down and I cuddled into his side. After a moment of silence, I tapped my fist eagerly on his chest.

"We're going to Comic-Con!" I squealed happily. "The last time I went I was twelve and I only had thirty bucks! Oh, we'll have to make a stop tomorrow morning at the bank. Maybe a hundred-fifty will be enough to pull out. _Maybe Stan Lee will be there! _Oh my goodness I love him so much! I should take my first edition _Iron Man _with me to see if he'll sign it! Man, that'd be-"

I stopped upon looking at Shawn. His head had drooped back onto the pillows and he was snoring softly. I rolled my eyes, but leaned my head back onto his chest and snuggled closer into his side. It took me another hour and a half to get to sleep that night. I was too excited about the prospect of Comic-Con in my future.

* * *

I smoothed out my _Doctor Who_ t-shirt before tightening my ponytail. "Hurry up!" I yelled to Shawn, who was still taking a shower in the room next to mine.

"No more tears, PJ!" he yelled back through the wall. I rolled my eyes and paced impatiently across my bedroom. My watch told me in small, digital numbers that it was eight-thirty. I wanted to be on our way by eight-thirty.

A few minutes later, he stepped into my room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hurry and get dressed!" I said, throwing his shirt at him. "I want to get there before the lines get out of hand!" He looked up at me.

"Or before something bad happens to our missing person," he said in the same slow voice he had used the night before.

"Yeah, sure, that," I said swiftly. "I'm _so_ excited! Do you guys get to do stuff like this often?"

"Nothing _exactly_ like this," he said, beginning to get all his clothes on. "We were in a civil war reenactment about a month ago. And just before we met, I met a man who swore he was being haunted but had that multiple personality disease thing. It was cool, but we nearly got burned down. Then the man had a crush on Gus."

"Weird," I said approvingly. "You ready?" I asked the second he buttoned his pants. He sighed.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this." I jumped eagerly to my feet and we left, me going slightly faster than he was. Maybe that was due to my small bounces of excitement every few steps.

* * *

"Hasn't this been sold out for a few weeks?" I asked Gus, nervous as we entered the Con.

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "Shawn," he said in a slightly louder voice, "the Con has been sold out for weeks now. How will we get in?"

We both watched as Shawn tilted his head and squinted at a nearby poster that was being taken down. I caught a glimpse of a promise of George Takei and got excited all over again.

"Follow my lead," Shawn announced, stepping forward to the entrance. The men held up his hand as we neared him.

"Tickets?" he asked.

"We don't need tickets," Shawn said. "We work for George."

"George?" the man repeated.

Shawn stared at him. "George...Ta-kie." I shut my eyes softly in embarrassment.

"You mean, _Ta-kay?_" the man asked back.

"Yeah, those closest to him know exactly how he likes his name pronounced," Shawn went on. "Have you gotten his blueberries yet?"

The man's expression changed from amused to surprised. "Uh...no." He looked at his clipboard. "No, we have no records of...of receiving them."

"You have no record of receiving them!" Shawn repeated. "No record of-." He stopped, looking down for a moment before saying in a seemingly forced calm voice, "He needs those blueberries. We don't want a repeat of what happened in San Antonio, do we? It's how Gus ended up with a wooden leg, PJ ended up having an irrational fear of walking sticks-"

"It isn't irrational!" I argued in a slightly high-pitched voice to help sell it.

"-and how I ended up with a stutter!" Shawn finished. "So, p-p-please, just l-let me in there so I-I can save all our asses!" The man quickly let us in, apologizing to Shawn repeatedly. We went into the Con, where Shawn and Gus promptly shared a victorious fist-bump.

* * *

**Hiya! I shall post the next part of the Comic-Con chapter ASAP! I swear! I hope you enjoyed this one, and REALLY hope you leave me a review. They make me happy as a clam...which makes no sense, really. People eat clams. I mean, I wouldn't be happy!**

**-Yogurt **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey (batter, batter, hey batter, batter! SWING! SWING BATTER SWING!) (Man am I hyper or what.). So yeah, hey. Waddup. I shall write now! Thanks for the reviews! Oh my goodness, I didn't expect to get this many! (Lol, I have, like, four.) Yay!**

* * *

"This is so cool!" I said, looking around the Con as we entered. Tons of people crossed in front of us, talking eagerly as they hurried from booth to booth. I bounced on the balls of my feet ever so slightly in eagerness to get going, see what everyone was selling. But I knew I had to listen to what the case was about to at least attempt to offer my help.

"I'm sensing it won't be very easy to find our guys here," Shawn said, his finger to his temple. "Not with so many other people."

"Then what are we going to do?" I asked.

"We're gon-"

"_Whoa!_" Gus exclaimed suddenly. I turned. He was standing at a comic booth, his eyes wide. "Is this a first edition Green Spirit?"

"Gus," Shawn said, sighing, "we're solving a case. We are not here t-"

"Wow!" I said, stepping over to the booth as well and gingerly picking up a comic. "My brother, Patrick, would _kill_ for one of these!"

"_I_ would kill for one of these!" Gus agreed. He looked at the man selling them. "How much?"

"Hey, Urkel." Shawn tapped Gus' shoulder as he pulled out his wallet. Gus turned to look at him.

"What?"

"Seriously, dude, we're trying to find this kid."

"You're not snapping at PJ!"

"Because PJ is pretty," Shawn said, "and I've seen her naked." I grinned at them, fishing my wallet from my pocket.

"So?" Gus asked. "You've seen me naked."

"Gus," Shawn said, "I asked you not to bring that up."

"We were fourteen! That was, like, fifteen years ago!"

"I don't care!" he said. "Keep it in the Vault of Secrets!" I laughed and took my new comic book from the man at the booth.

"Whatever, Shawn." Gus turned around and bought one of the comic books. "Let's go." He slipped his comic into the bag presented to him. We started walking through the Con. I could practically feel Shawn's exasperated expression every time Gus or I would point something cool out.

"Wow!" Gus said later, his eyes widening slightly. "That's Hiltz Kooler!"

"Is that as cool as the Fourth Doctor's scarf or the One Ring?" Shawn asked, looking over at me.

"I'm not going to apologize for loving _Lord of the Rings," _I said, looking up from the gold-plated ring I now wore around my finger. I followed Gus' gaze. "Is that _really_ Hiltz Kooler?"

"Looks like it!" Gus said, stepping over to the table.

"Who is Hiltz Kooler?" Shawn sighed.

"He wrote the Green Spirit," Gus said.

"The football player?" Shawn asked.

"That's 'Mean Joe' Greene," I said, rolling my eyes.

* * *

**OKAYYEAHHI. This is like the shortest thing of all time, and I apologize profusely for that. Like, with all my heart. But I had to tell you that my computer is busted, so I shan't be able to post much. At least not until it's fixed or I figure out how to do this on m Android. So here's this and an apology. I AM SO SORRY. Message me if you wanna talk or roleplay or have suggestions. I will love you forever.  
**

**-Yogurt**


End file.
